


It Takes a Village

by Wondering_Writer



Series: Carmen Sandiego One-Shots [3]
Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21826579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wondering_Writer/pseuds/Wondering_Writer
Summary: Carmen Sandiego is the embodiment of generosity, extravagance, and spontaneity.
Relationships: Julia "Jules" Argent & Carmen Sandiego | Black Sheep
Series: Carmen Sandiego One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1525427
Comments: 2
Kudos: 89





	It Takes a Village

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Peppydragon, aka Megge, aka my best friend who unfortunately lost her dog today. Bean was 17 and went peacefully after a long fight with cancer and a good, happy ten years with Megge and her husband. Rest in peace puppy. We will love and miss you always. 
> 
> Might add more to this. I consider it a one-off side thing to M&M as is.
> 
> Edit: Posted the wrong series. I'm tired and wrote this in only 4 hours.

Christmas time for Julia has always been a small, simple thing. As are most holidays, actually. After the mess (fantastical and sweet and perfect, but a mess regardless) that was her birthday, Carmen is more than happy to let her lead on Team Red's future holiday planning.

For Thanksgiving, more for the Bostonian duo in their strange family unit than everyone, they order out dishes from across the fast food continent. Saying thanks over takeout cardboard and paper bags and styrofoam cup holders. What they can't eat, they all take to the local homeless shelter.

Christmas is a little trickier. Because Christmas isn't about religion or ethnicity like Thanksgiving is drenched in Americana. Presents are a given, and the twins beg her to let them bring home the biggest (artificial - Deavinux's pine allergies demand it) tree VILE can buy and all the trimmings. Carmen also wants everyone competent in the kitchen to cook. Julia groans, but she begrudges her girlfriend hardly anything.

Gifts. Gifts are another thing entirely. Julia's mother always handmade her presents, only one or two each year. Small things she could always use in the day-to-day. A tea cozy, clothes, pillows and blankets - the list is too long to name in full. Her mother was adamant that gifts should never go to waste.

And Carmen, for all the people she helps along the way on VILE'S dime, is the epitome of extravagance.

She's avoided the inevitable questions and suggestions her girlfriend poses by asking for time to think. Trying to think of a compromise that will suit her tastes and won't leave Carmen wondering if she thinks of herself as a burden.

Little did she know that an answer would fall right into her lap.

It's one of Team Red's lazy Sundays, the first Sunday of December. Still early enough that Deavinux's morning jazz practice drags her from sleep and that Carmen should still be on her run.

And yet the steady, light footsteps of her girlfriend are padding over the warehouses ghostly creaks and groans, coming closer to their bedroom door. She can hear it now, her ears waking up as she blinks until the bedside clock greets her clearly. It's barely seven. Why is Carmen home?

And then she hears a voice--Carmen's voice--unfamiliar with a high pitch and a stage whisper as it tries to cover up a high, keening whine. "Shh, baby, we have to be quiet. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for your other mommy."

Other...what?

And then her girlfriend is toeing the door open just enough to slip inside, something small and fluffy and bright brown wiggling in the crooks of her cradled arms.

"Carmen?" Her girlfriend winces hard enough that the puppy yelps, sharp and happy, as it takes advantage of her loosened hold to jump to freedom.

Grey eyes lock with hers just as little claws scrabble on the hardwood floor toward the bed. Carmen's smile is sheepish and apologetic and excited all at once. "Hi. Merry Christmas?"

Julia feels the bedsheets being pawed before she can turn her drawn breath into words. She peeks over the edge of the bed at a squeaky whine to see the fluffball on its hind legs, big brown eyes pleading to come up.

And whatever arguments she had started to build up about schedules and dog training fly right out of their window. The poor little thing is more fluff than weight under her hands, it's heart steady and fast against her thumb. It's grin is toothy and wide as she scoops it up into her lap. Six weeks, then, or thereabout. Maybe a little older. Its ears are small, pointy things, the only color to contrast the tawny gradient of stuck-in-every-direction-fur is the eyes and it's black button nose. Her first guess is Pomeranian, especially as it vibrates in her lap, licking and sniffing every inch of her hands and arms.

It's so _soft_ and _warm_ and her heart already feels too full as she asks, "Where did you get it?"

"Her. Shadow-san and I found her and her four siblings in a box on the beach with a 'Take Them' sign. We dropped the rest of the litter off at the local no-kill shelter and asked as many questions as the staff would tolerate. There was no mom in sight and the other pups ate well with dry food, so they're weaned. She couldn't butt in--the runt. Shelter put them at between seven and eight weeks. I plan on stopping by the pet shop first thing tomorrow--they have a vet and a groomer in-store."

Julia lets the wave of information wash over her, swallows, and nods. In her lap, their new fur-child has settled, and Julia doesn't even know when she started coming her nails through her fur like her mother did for her. "Any names?"

"I was thinking we'd do a paper in a hat kind of thing--pool everyone's ideas. It takes a village to raise a kid after all. Princess is already sticking as a prominent nickname, though. She prances when she isn't running."

Julia laughs, looks down at a sharp little sound and realizes Her Royal Highness is dozing in the spread nest of her legs, yawning so wide Julia wonders how such a big mouth fits a tiny thing.

"We're definitely not going to get her to sleep on a dog bed on the floor."

When she looks up again, Carmen has that gone-soft looks she gets around happy little kids. "No, we're not."

And as dawn turns to full day beyond the curtains, they start planning the caper of pet-parenting.


End file.
